


stuck in the jet wash

by haipollai



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Identity, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, M/M, making choices
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-03-12 22:03:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3356918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haipollai/pseuds/haipollai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack had been defined as Bob Zimmerman's son since he was born, when he was a month old and he was brought out onto the ice in his mother's arms after a game.  (His dad remembers it because the Flames had just locked their playoff spot.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	stuck in the jet wash

**Author's Note:**

  * For [monj](https://archiveofourown.org/users/monj/gifts).



Jack had been defined as Bob Zimmerman's son since he was born when he was a month old and he was brought out onto the ice in his mother's arms after a game. (His dad remembers it because the Flames had just locked their playoff spot.) When he was nine they let him drop the puck on his birthday and the entire arena had sung happy birthday to him. (His party had been getting to stay up with his dad and some of his teammates.) His first championship with his junior team, the team wanted his dad in the photo even though he hadn't even made it to most of the games. 

When it came time for the draft it had been too hard to be Bob Zimmerman's son, knowing that's who they would be drafting. Not Jack. And it became too much. 

He doesn't know really if he wanted to die or maybe just rest for awhile. It hurts too much to pick at that scab though his therapist pushes him sometimes. At the time it had felt like the right thing, who needed Jack when Bad Bob was around. 

Now he stares at the offers that have been extended to him and wonders if this is the same thing all over again. 

His dad had told him how great these offers were, all these teams that still believed he could compete at the highest level. It was the closest he ever came to calling Jack a slacker. 

He lines them up first by the money offered but no answers jump out at him. He arranges them by age of franchise next. The Aces sit at the end of the lineup. He knows the opportunity. Young franchise, a chance to stand out, make his mark. 

Kent.

He presses the heels of his palms into his eyes, feeling the familiar ache. He's still not sure if it means he's missing Kent or what Kent came to represent; drugs and parties and alcohol. Kent and his Addictions, with a capital ‘a’ went hand in hand even though he knew it wasn’t Kent’s fault. He was just there.

Jack pushes the offer away. It’s not fair maybe but he can’t put himself back there, he’s done so well and he’s done it on his own. There’s no relying on his name at the NA meetings. His therapist doesn’t care how many Stanley Cups his dad’s won and he knows, going back to Kent, going back to hockey with Kent, he’s doomed before he steps on the ice.

Familiar isn’t what he wants, familiar is dangerous. The Penguins go next - and he knows they were only after him for the name anyway, he’d be stuck constantly trying to prove himself - and from there it’s almost easy. He can make this choice. He can.

There’s four left staring up at him when he chokes and dumps them in a pile on his bed before he panics. He needs to call his agent, finalize the choices he did make but that can wait. He sets himself up at his desk, opening up the first video file he can find to create noise and distraction. It’s a documentary on early growth in Toronto, he had tried to watch it before but had given up out of boredom.

It’s soothing now. He sinks down in his creaky chair and lets the bland voiceover wash over him until his heart stops pounding.

His door opens without warning and Bitty sticks his head in. Usually he knocks and Jack wonders if there's some way he could know what Jack was doing. 

"Sorry! I- are you ok?" 

Jack knows he must look awful for Bitty to skip any pleasantries and just ask. He grunts and stares at his computer screen. 

"Jack?"

"Fine." 

Bitty looks like he's not going to fight it and leave Jack alone. Jack wants to apologize, all him to stay but he can't make the words take shape. But maybe it's better if Bitty just leaves, he can do better than Bob Zimmerman's son. Bob Zimmerman's son can't be gay after all. 

Except Bitty is more stubborn than he looks and instead takes a step into Jack's room and closes the door behind him. "You shouldn't- everyone's worried, you've been holed up more often these days." He stares down at his shoes.

The voiceover of the documentary fills the silence between them until Jack turns it off in a huff. "I didn't mean to make anyone worry." He didn't even really think about it, it had never occurred to him anyone would notice anything. For years were supposed to change him and he's still awful with people. 

"I know Jack. Of course we know. You've got a lot to think about." He scuffs the old carpet with his toe. The actual Haus carpet had been torn up as a health and safety measure years and go but Jack had got his own. "Can we- I help?" Bitty asks nervously.

Jack wants to kick him out, keep all of this hidden from Bitty. "I'm done for today."

"Oh."

"But you can stay," he says quickly. "I can show you the photographs I've taken."

Bitty beams at him and takes a shuffling step forward. Jack hurriedly moves the papers away so they can sit on the bed, his laptop on their thighs. 

He knows his pictures aren't the best, his professor says he has the technical skills but needs to open up and let himself be creative. Bitty doesn't stop smiling though and Jack starts to feel like this okay, sharing something he did that isn't perfect.

“I can’t believe how many pictures you have of me,” Bitty scoffs.

Jack feels his cheeks heat up and his first thoughts are frantic, would anyone else see? Would anyone else put it all together? 

“Jack?” Bitty’s hand is warm on his shoulder, his fingers just barely brushing against his neck. His skin is callused, rough, which Jack always forgets. Jack always forgets that Bitty’s hands are used. He takes one of Bitty’s hands in his without thinking, tracing the scar that cuts across his palm from trying to grab a skate years ago. Bitty goes tense beside him but doesn’t pull away.

He wonders if Bitty’s going to ask. Everyone asks or almost asks whenever he does something they see as out of character. Are you using- and then they freeze, the rest on the tip of their tongue. Shitty never has but Shitty has always been the exception to Jack’s rules. 

“What are you looking at?” Bitty asks.

“You.”

“See anything interesting?” 

Jack meets Bitty’s eyes. This close his eyes are huge. “You’re always interesting to me, Bits.” 

“Well, who knew you were such a flirt.” 

He looks away, he has to. It’s too much to see the tinge of sadness in Bitty's eyes, the expectation for there to be no follow through but he doesn’t let go of Bitty’s hand. Hopefully it’s enough for Bitty to get it. He has been Bob Zimmerman’s son for so long sometimes he isn’t sure who Jack is, except he knows that he wants this. “Tomorrow, I might need some help tomorrow.”

“Alright,” Bitty says, his voice soft. “And with a warning like that, I can even make sure to bring some pie.”

“Bitty,” he rolls his eyes and doesn’t think too hard about Bitty fitting his fingers between Jack’s. “We have a diet.”

“Hard decisions always require pie.”

“You think everything requires pie.”

He can feel Bitty shrug and gently untangle himself from Jack's grip and Jack's bed. "Homework, not all of us spend our time in photography class." Jack watches him go, knowing there should probably be something he should be saying but he doesn't know the words. Bitty pauses at the door. "Jack, you're leaving," he forces the words out as if each one hurts. "We shouldn't-"

"What if I stay close?" 

Bitty's eyes get big as if he hadn't thought that was a possibility. "The Aces-"

He flinches at the reminder of what he would be letting go. "Tomorrow Bits."

Jack flops over onto the bed as soon as the door closes behind Bitty. He stares up at the ceiling, trying not to think about how much warmer his room is with Bitty in it. His door opens again without warning and he immediately jerks up. Bitty is in the doorway with a pie in one hand. Jack is fairly sure there had been no pies lingering in the kitchen before but he has one now.

“You were sad and I figured even if I don’t help you today, I can distract you for awhile.” He gestures with his other hand which is the one holding the forks as he talks. Jack eyes them out of the corner of his eye, getting stabbed by one of his wingers wouldn’t be a good way to end the year.

“You’re impossible.” He pats the bed beside him, inviting Bitty to sit down.

The pie is cut up into slices but Bitty digs right in and more hesitantly, Jack follows suit. The protest about their diets ends fairly quickly, he doesn’t want Bitty to leave again. “You know,” Bitty says when Jack’s mouth is full. “If you do end up going to the Aces and becoming a big star again, you would still have to come visit.”

“I’m not going to the Aces.” It feels real when he says it out loud, like a decision. His choice. Bitty’s eyes grow wide in surprise. “Can’t get pie like this in Vegas.”

Bitty elbows him. “Of course not. So uh-”

“Providence is a good team.” His eyes move to the pile left on his desk.

“Yea but you deserve a _great_ team. You deserve everything good.”

Jack stares at the pie, the neat slices now all a wreck from where they’ve been carving out bites. He spends so much time trying to convince himself that he deserves something good, and Bitty says it without a second thought. They weren’t even supposed to be doing this today. “What if hockey’s not the only good thing?” 

“Huh?”

“Pie, Bitty.” He leans against him so their shoulders are pressed together. He grins around his fork. “I need to stay close to good pie. I deserve that, right?”

Bitty’s cheeks turn pink. “Yes, everyone deserves good pie.”

“Thank you, Bitty.”

“I don’t know how good a job I did distracting you though. We just talked about your choices and-”

Jack carefully takes the pie from him and sets it aside, Bitty trails off, staring at his hands. “Thank. You.” He should let Bitty slip out again, they’re sitting so close though and he doesn’t want to be alone. Jack knows what Bob Zimmerman’s son would do so Jack leans in and kisses the corner of Bitty’s lips. He can feel Bitty tense up, though he knows- he thought. He lets go of his hands. “Sorry, I had to do that at least once.”

“You-” Bitty’s eyes narrow, weighing Jack and his intentions. “You better be planning on doing it again.” He sits up on his knees, making himself slightly taller than Jack. “If you want to.”

“I want to.” He grins, liking the way the words feel on his tongue.


End file.
